


what it is to be a thin crescent moon

by Anonymous



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Aftercare, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light BDSM, M/M, Subspace, in that it's only after the scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27171241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Good job,” Nicky says again, and Joe cracks an eye open in time to watch Nicky bending to press a kiss to Joe’s chest, the rag set aside. “You always do such a good job for me. My beautiful, perfect Yusuf.”-Written for a kink meme prompt asking for soft dom Nicky taking care of sub Joe after a scene.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 11
Kudos: 182
Collections: Anonymous





	what it is to be a thin crescent moon

Afterwards, Nicky pads away to get a glass of water, and Joe lays on the bed, trying to convince his limbs to work.

“Yusuf,” Nicky murmurs when he returns. Joe’s eyes have slipped shut; he forces them open, so he can see Nicky’s beautiful sunken eyes, his lovely big nose, the way he smiles when he sees Joe is still awake. “Can you drink something, caro?”

Joe hums in agreement, but can’t quite pull himself upright. Nicky sets down the tray he’s carrying so he can help Joe prop himself up against the pillows, and then, as Joe slowly drains the water, lets his hand settle on Joe’s forehead. Already, his skin is tacky with cooling sweat; gently, Nicky brushes the curls back from his skin, thumb resting against Joe’s hairline.

Eventually, Joe finishes the glass, and passes it back to Nicky. “Good job,” Nicky murmurs, which, small and stupid as it is, makes Joe sigh with happy praise. Nicky sets down the glass on the bedside table and picks up a wet rag. “Hopefully this isn’t too cool,” he says as he starts carefully cleaning Joe’s thighs. The rag isn’t hot, but it’s warm enough, and Joe closes his eyes again, sighing, as Nicky works his way down to Joe’s calves, then back up to his stomach, his ass, his chest. It's so easy to float, like this - his head still pleasantly quiet, the ghost of Nicky settled over Joe like a heavy blanket. The cool air of the room feels sweetly sharp against his wet skin, prickling in a tingly sort of way. “Good job,” Nicky says again, and Joe cracks an eye open in time to watch Nicky bending to press a kiss to Joe’s chest, the rag set aside. “You always do such a good job for me. My beautiful, perfect Yusuf.”

“Nicky,” Joe murmurs. He wants Nicky - not inside him again, not yet, so recently fucked out, still sore and dripping, but he wants Nicky on him. He wants Nicky plastered to his back, his big hands spread over Joe’s chest. He wants Nicky’s curved nose pressed against the back of his neck, his knee tucked between Yusuf’s own.

“I know, caro mio, just a few more minutes. You are so good.” Nicky picks up a bowl from the tray and finally perches on the bed beside Joe, his hip pressed againstJoe’s thigh. “Can you eat something for me?”

There are grapes in the bowl, still glistening with the water Nicky used to wash them. Joe nods, and Nicky rewards him with a smile and a kiss, there and gone. “Thank you. Open your mouth.” One by one, Nicky feeds the grapes to Joe, his fingers brushing over Joe’s wet lips, lingering on his cheek and jaw as he chews. Aside from that contact, he isn't touching Joe, but he might as well be; despite the inches between them, Joe can practically feel Nicky against him, as though the air between them is but an extension of their bodies.

Eventually, Nicky raises a grape and Joe shakes his head, and without challenge, Nicky sets the bowl aside. “Good job. You’ve done so well. My beautiful, beautiful Yusuf. Are you ready to sleep now?”

Joe takes a long moment to nod, his thoughts still thick and dumb, but Nicky seems to be expecting it because he merely reaches over to flick out the lamp. “Can you move over for me, habibi?” he asks gently, and Joe drags his limbs into wakefulness enough to slide a bit further away on the mattress, towards where the bed touches the wall.

Nicky slides in after him, and immediately he tucks himself up against Joe’s body, exactly the way Joe had wanted, his warmth swallowing Joe whole. “Oh, my love,” Nicky sighs. Nicky has his back to the door, both of them facing the wall; any other time, Joe would argue the issue, but today he is tired and fucked out and drifting, and he wants nothing more than Nicky behind him, holding him, keeping him safe and separate from the world. He knows, for Nicky, the same is also true.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” Nicky murmurs. Already, Joe is halfway to sleep. Nicky’s hand drifts down from Joe’s chest to settle, comfortably, on the sensitive skin of his belly, thumb brushing against the line of hair trailing down to Joe's groin from his navel. “My beautiful, wonderful man. So kind, so generous, so brave. So much love in the world, Yusuf, and I think it all comes from you.” Joe wants to respond, but all he can manage is a sort of distant snuffling sound. Nicky, thankfully, only laughs, quiet and soft.

“Oh, my love, you are tired, I know. It is okay. Go to sleep. I will be right here.” Nicky presses a kiss to the back of Joe’s neck, wet and open-mouthed. “A bath in the morning, perhaps. All those nice soaps you like.”

Joe hum. Nicky’s kisses trail across Joe’s shoulders and shoulder blades to the back of his arm. Joe is really drifting now, almost asleep, but just before it takes him, he catches the faint sounds of familiar vowels in Nicky’s mouth, the beginning recitation of a poem Joe had known so long ago. “You and I, with the garden’s beauty, and the birds singing," Nicky murmurs. "The stars will be watching us, and we will show them what it is to be a thin crescent moon. You and I, unselfed, will be together.”

With the last of his energy, Joe curls his hand over Nicky’s on his stomach. In return, Nicky gives Joe’s hand a squeeze, his rough gunman’s calluses catching against Joe’s own. His breath ghosts over Joe’s neck. Easily and quietly as slipping into a still pond, Joe falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> written for this prompt/originally posted on the kinkmeme here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5552.html?thread=1944496#cmt1944496
> 
> The quoted poem is by Rumi (if Google has served me well; feel free to correct me in the comments if not); the title is therefore from Rumi as well.


End file.
